Buried But Not Forgotten
by Jaganashi
Summary: Kurama Dark-fic: Mystery, murder, angst, psychological, etc. (Indefinite Hiatus)
1. Prologue, Notes, and Warnings

**Buried But Not Forgotten**

**Prologue**

The world is but a blur- shapes without meaning and colors unseen. Sharp, calculated movements bring a predator that much closer to its prey. Nothing exists but that second heartbeat; rapid and erratic as their movements. Dancers would envy such determination, for it is a ballet of death: graceful, swift, fatal. The predator gains, the chase nearly ending, when its prize makes a desperate move.

_Clink_

The dragonfly lay crippled by the window, its shattered wings reflecting the early morning light in broken rays. The metallic-blue insect spasms as the hunter lights upon the sill. Moments pass as the small body twitches, losing all brain functions. Inching closer to the fallen meal, the predator claims his prize with haughty pride.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Kurama awoke to the sound of something hitting his window. He sat up, propping himself with an arm, and turned toward the noise. Staring at him through the glass was a dark figure with glowering eyes. A crow, to be exact.

"Go away"

Needless to say, the redhead was less than pleased to be greeted by such a creature, first thing in the morning. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he rose from the bed and shuffled tiredly to his closet. After pulling out a fresh school uniform for the day, he started making his way to the bathroom when he felt the distinct burn of another's gaze. He turned toward the window.

"Kar…" The small black head cocked to the side, as if curious.

"No peep show for you...perverted crow. Now shoo!"

Kurama tapped on the glass as the crow watched with interest. Finally growing bored, or simply wanting to humor the young man, the bird took off without so much as a parting call.

It is said that the Gods send messengers to their people- creatures who carry the prophecies of the world upon their wing.

An omen of things to come...?

TBC

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Notes: This will not be a Karasu-rapes-Kurama fic, this I promise you. This will, however, evolve into a dark-fic. There may be mention or light flashbacks to rape in later chapters, but they will be objective and very short; hence, _flash_backs. There will also be a warning at the beginning of the chapter if I decide to include that particular flavor of content.

The first chapter will be light and possibly on the slow side, setting everything up at a comfortable pace. Please review- I hope you enjoy the story.


	2. Chapter One

Buried But Not Forgotten

Chapter One

Sunlight filtered through the trees in golden beams, lending a glow to the canopy of leaves. Birds sang joyous songs as they swooped from here to there. The sky was a perfect blue, trafficked by the occasional cloud making its lazy way to an unknown destination.

It was the perfect day to feel the warmth on your face, allow your lids to drop, and let your consciousness be swept away by the breeze. Especially if one's consciousness has had little opportunity to rest.

"Shuichi-kun?"

The red haired young man turned his attention from the window to the girl who stood before him. Wearing the usual crimson uniform required by his school, he recognized her as one of his classmates.

"Good morning, Asena."

She had waist-length blonde hair framing an olive complexion. The Clements family moved to Japan three generations before, explaining the girl's European features but Japanese culture.

Having been the first in the classroom, Kurama was a little surprised to see that the room was now filled with students. They must have come in while he was daydreaming- if daydreaming was the word. He would blame his fatigue on lack of sleep, but he's had hours. He reasoned that it must be the quality of sleep that mattered, not the quantity, for every morning over the past two weeks he woke as if he's had hardly any sleep.

And it's starting to show.

"Are you all right, Shuichi?"

He knew of the dark circles beginning to form beneath each eye and of the air of fatigue he must be carrying. There are times when he wants nothing more than to rest his head and become oblivious to the world. Of course by now, he knows that any attempt will grant him only a half-sleep, to be awoken by the smallest noise or movement.

"I am fine. I've simply been studying hard for the mid-terms."

It was a lie, but one of little consequence.

"Of course. You know, Sensei Keruki is going to give us our Foreign Literature project today. I was wondering if you would be my partner?

She had spoken with confidence that said it didn't matter one way or the other, Kurama noticed, but she was still holding her breath. The class was to pair up over the weekend- a fact that had completely slipped his mind until now.

"Of course, Asena. Do you know yet, who the writer of our focus will be?"

Blue eyes closed as she shook her head in a girlish manner. Fifty percent of their grade depended on the completion and presentation of this new project. Ms. Keruki had a pleasantly dark taste in literature. Kurama's last report was on W. W. Jacob's The Monkey's Paw: a classic tale of horror with the message, "be careful what you wish for." He predicted a look at some of Shakespeare's darker works, or possibly Edgar Allen Poe this time around.

The students quieted, taking their seats quickly as the teacher walked in. The marvels of an honors class are never-ceasing.

Ms. Keruki was tall and slim, her lengthy black hair tied behind her head in a bun. Her eyes, a dark brown, were never without sincerity. She was strict with her students, but treated them as people rather than cattle that needed to be herded from one grade to another.

"Good afternoon, my bright young pupils. I hope you all had a pleasant weekend, because here is the assignment- as promised."

She dropped a stack of identically bland folders on her desk in a dramatic gesture, eliciting a few mock moans from the class.

"We will be taking a journey into the murky depths of Mister Edger Allen Poe."

So the kitsune was right.

"Each pair will be given a piece of Poe's creative genius to read, analyze, annotate, and relate," She began passing the folders out among the students.

"I want to see notes and annotations on the work itself, then a three to five page report on the piece including, but not limited to, the influences of the time and setting as well as how it compares to literature today. Don't be afraid to immerse yourself in his world; gain new perceptions of reality, as warped as they may seem. You have the rest of the period to review the procedures and ask what questions you may have. I expect the report on my desk next Thursday, and be ready for the presentations the following day."

Asena accepted the beige folder and promptly wrote their names on it. She peeked inside and let out an, "Oooh…I was hoping for this one."

She pulled it out to flash her new partner.

"The Raven."

Kurama gave a small nod and took the proffered paper. Remembering his feathered visitor, he should have seen it coming. The mind plays tricks on the weary.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

By the ring of the last school bell, the once beautiful day had slipped into a dreary grey. Thick clouds blocked the sun, and the wind carried the chill of rain yet to fall. Walking down the steps of the school, Kurama wished he had thought to bring a jacket; the weather man said that there was a 60-80 percent chance of rain all week. Come to think of it, a lot has been slipping from the fox's mind lately.

"_Kar_…"

He looked up to see what was either a crow or a raven- he couldn't tell from the distance. 'I should hurry home before it rains,' he thought with a sigh. His eyes were closed in contemplation when he heard the voice.

"Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door! Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

The redhead turned to see blue eyes sparkling in cheer despite the weather.

"It's from The Raven, Shuichi. Oh, and looks how gloomy it's gotten. Kind of ominous, don't you think? Sensei Keruki sure has dark tastes."

"Indeed."

The one word confronted and answered all that Asena had said. Plans were made to continue the discussion, if it could be called as such, in class the next day, and both made their way hurriedly home.

Shiori, Kurama's human mother, remarried not long ago to a man named Hatakana. Though a little old-fashioned, the kitsune didn't feel strongly about him one way or the other. He was an over all good man, hard working and most importantly, he made his mother happy. Hatakana, or "Otousan," as his mother wanted him to be called, also had a son a few years younger than his own human form. The boy was Shuuichi, of all names.

Hatakana was at the dining room table, writing in a journal when Kurama walked in- having barely missed the rain. The noises emitting from the kitchen let him know of his mother's whereabouts.

"Konnichi wa, mother, otousan."

He was halfway up the stairs when his mother popped her head out from around the corner. "Good afternoon, dear. Dinner will be ready soon: we're having beef and vegetable stir-fry. How do you want your meat?"

"Rare," he replied without much thought. He gave Shiori a loving smile and continued to his room.

"Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,  
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;  
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-  
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-  
Perched, and sat, and nothing more."

Kurama had read the poem before, and apparently so had his partner. Surely with their combined efforts, they could finish the project in three or four days.

His oral reciting was interrupted by his mother calling him down for dinner. He placed the paper on his desk and made his way down the stairs to the dining room.

"It smells delicious," he said with a smile to the woman.

And it certainly did. Taking his seat, he surveyed the set table. A plate of riceballs sat in the middle, the foreign plate a sign that it was a gift from a neighbor, and three plates around the table full of lightly browned vegetables, white rice, and beef still simmering in its juices.

Hatakana took his seat as well, adding, "I second that. Shuuichi doesn't know what he's missing at that band camp."

Shiori sat, smiling and accepting the praise of the two most important men in her life. They talked of many things: Shuuichi's letter from camp, Hatakana's day at work, the weather, and the neighbor's new granddaughter. The food had nearly disappeared before the focus turned to Kurama.

"So, how was your day, dear? Weren't you getting an assignment today?"

He nodded, taking the last bite of his rice. "I did. I'm paired with a classmate, Asena, to do a report on The Raven, by Edgar Allen Poe."

A hopeful smile- barely noticeable, graced her lips. Kurama could guess the reason, but Hatakana confirmed it.

"Is she pretty?"

They had had this conversation before, and to be honest, he could understand where they were coming from. Here was a seventeen year old young man who had excellent grades and, if he did say so himself, fawn-worthy looks. Yet, as far as either of them new, Shuichi had never shown much interest in the opposite sex, let alone have a girlfriend. He was well-aware of the fact that Shori wanted to one day have grandchildren- he's seen the sparkle in her eyes when a baby is brought up to her, and noticed the way she talks about a friend or neighbor who has news of a grandchild. But how does one go about explaining to a mother or seventeen years that her child plans on returning to the demon world not long after her death. The answer: one doesn't.

"Yes, she's an attractive and intelligent young woman. I also believe that she has a boyfriend."

It was only a guess, but it may prevent the repeat-discussion with Hatakana.

"They tend to do that if you don't make a move."

Guess not. It was worth a try. The man had his own ideas of normalcy; boys were expected to do stupid things that got them into trouble- more often than not, to get the favor or attentions of a girl. In private, Shiori suggested the possibility that her son may not prefer women at all. Her new husband didn't approve, but if that turned out to be the case, he's have no other choice but to accept it.

But Shuichi had never expressed that sort of interest in _anyone_, and damn if Hatakana's going to give up without a fight.

"I would be without the treasure of your mother if I hadn't taken the first step and asked her out." He placed his hand on top of hers in a loving gesture. At this, Kurama was expected to comment.

"And I'm happy that you did. It can be nothing other than love that the two of you share."

"It certainly is."

Kurama continued, "Love is not dating a peer simply to achieve the right image."

He stood, taking their plates to the sink and started towards the stairs. Hatakana spoke, still sitting. "Love is not leaving your mother in uncertainty when she gave you a family, and all she asks for in return is the same."

That was below the belt, and judging by the reprimanding look she was giving her new husband, Shiori thought so as well. Never the less, Kurama refused to make a scene- no good could come of it. Instead, he excused himself with the mention of homework and retired to his room.

There was once a time when he would not have stood for that. He has, after all, killed for less. The great Youko Kurama, reduced to being chastised by a human who has been in his home for a span of four months. He chuckled at the absurdity of it as he drew a bath. His lack of a significant other had been a topic of light discussion for over a month now. Of course, it had never been this direct before.

Whether due to the domestic dispute, or to his lack of quality sleep, Kurama had been not only tired, but stressed for over a week. Heaving and audible sigh, he added an extra handful of sweet pea aroma-therapy beads. Here was hoping for a good night's sleep.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hoping, apparently, wasn't enough.

The annoying beeping of an alarm clock welcomed the kitsune to the cold and dismal morning. Giving a quiet moan, he turned the alarm off and crawled out of bed.

On this side of his bathroom door, a full-length mirror was mounted. His pale green pajamas were wrinkled and his hair was thoroughly tousled, but that's not what he chose to stare at. The dark crescents that were just beginning yesterday had become full circles under his eyes. He looked at the clock despite knowing the time. Seven o'clock. He had nine hours of sleep last night- this wasn't possible. The sleep had been the deepest in years; he hadn't woken all through the night, even when Hatakana left for work. He was soundly unconscious, yet looked -and felt – like he hadn't slept in days.

With sluggish movements, he performed the early morning ritual: wash up, don uniform, eat breakfast, and head off to school.

It was a three-block walk, but Kurama never minded. It was good to get some fresh air before enduring a day kept up in a school building. This was _his_ time; no pleasantries, no mundane tasks, no image to worry about. Of course, it might have lightened his mood a bit if only the sun would hold up its end. There was a blanket of grey stretching as far as the eye could see. It was like a large, continuous cloud effectively keeping the sun away from the world, or the world away from the sun. Either way. Inspecting the overcast for signs of rain, Kurama spotted a stalker.

"_Kar_…"

So 'stalker' might be too strong a word. It depends on who you are.

"Mother has her heart set on me marrying a human girl. Sorry to disappoint you." The kitsune was good at sarcasm this morning- it fit both his mood and the weather.

The crow seemed to follow the redhead the entire three blocks to school without so much as another peep.

"Whether born in Ningenkai or born in Makai: you're all the same." It was meant to be an attempt at humor, but it escaped his throat as a dry accusation.

The halls were crammed with teenagers bustling about. Some were laughing, some were yelling, some putting on a show for attention, and some trying desperately to disappear.

Kurama was in the process of retrieving a Chemistry book from his locker when he overheard a bit of conversation.

"They brought in extra counselors and everything."

The short young man leaning against the lockers spoke to his friend with an anxious look on his face.

"You know how my dad's a cop. They found her somewhere in the park- stabbed in the heart. They can't figure out the murder weapon though- it isn't a wound caused by a blade."

"Whoa…a murder? Someone from this school?"

The boy's next words caused a chill to run down Kurama's spine.

"Yeah. Asena Clements."

TBC


	3. Chapter Two

**Buried But Not Forgotten**

**Chapter 2**

A small poster depicted a panic-stricken orange tabby clinging desperately to a slender tree limb. Surprise was written clearly across its face, no doubt oblivious to the presence of a photographer. A caption beneath it read: "Hang in there!" Kurama found it quite humorous.

Of course, it would have been inappropriate to laugh, given the circumstances.

Mrs. Meinko's office, like every other office in the Guidance building, was filled to the brim with pieces of personality. Ceramic puppies, troll dolls, ridiculous novelty pens, and student-made gifts dominated the room. It looked as if the assault had started on her desk, spilled onto the floor, and crept up the walls. Color was splashed about the room, and any sign of professionalism- the fax and telephone, for example- was obscured by sequins and ribbons.

Mrs. Meinko looked alien standing in the brightly tacky room. Her darkly graying hair, held in a tight bun atop her head, matched the dull suit jacket and dress-skirt. The black blouse she wore complemented her nearly onyx eyes. She sat proper but relaxed behind the troll-covered beast of a desk, giving Kurama her most reassuring smile.

"Good morning, Shuichi. It's good to see you. This is…Mr Otake. He might want to ask a few questions if they come up.

A man in his forties with hair the color of dull nutmeg sat by the door, his jeans and t-shirt as non-descript as one can be without seeming suspicious. He gave a tight smile and nodded at the introduction. His demeanor and watchful eyes gave him away as a plain-clothes detective, and Kurama had to wonder about those who could be so easily fooled by a lack of uniform.

Mrs. Meinko's voice was soft and sincere. "I'm sure you've heard about what happened to Ms. Clements.

Three periods had passed before they thought of calling him up to Guidance. Three classes of different students gossiping with the same information, rumors, and theories; it was a safe bet that the entire school had heard of the murder. He gave a solemn nod and let the councilor continue.

"Yes, it was very tragic. How are you doing?"

Kurama thought for a moment. "I didn't know her outside of class. I'm still a little shocked by the news, but I'm doing all right."

The kitsune wasn't completely unaffected, but he didn't want to give the impression of callous indifference, either. These people were working with teenagers- the news of a death, especially an unsolved mystery, was expected to have a devastating impact on everyone. Shuichi could not be an exception.

"You were Asena's partner, correct?"

The detective's voice was cold and devoid of emotion. The redhead feigned a startled look and replied, "Yes. Literature class."

The man was apparently equipped with a spiel of pre-planned questions, for he continued without hesitation. "When was the assignment given?"

"Yesterday."

"Did you see her at all after class that day?"

Kurama thought back and recalled her enthusiasm about the gloomy weather. "After the bell rang, we saw each other at the steps of the school. We agreed to discuss the project in more detail today, in class."

"Did she mention her plans for the evening? Perhaps meeting someone or doing something?"

"No sir."

Cold, calculating eyes stared at the boy.

"Do you ever visit the park off of Hand Avenue?"

Kurama knew the place well- it was quiet and secluded, blocked off from the housing developments. He enjoyed walking through the underbrush in the spring and watching the sakura leaves depart in the fall.

"Yes."

"How often do you visit?"

He shrugged. "It depends on the time of year, I suppose. I haven't been there at all lately, what with midterms coming up." He pretending not to realize he was being interrogated. Humor the officials- it tended to work better than aggravating them.

"Are you familiar with the reproduction of a certain sta-"

The infinite question-answer cycle was interrupted by Mrs. Meinko's voice, hardened by a hint of anger. "I believe that Shuichi has been more than helpful, Mr. Otake. As his counselor, _I'm_ supposed to be helping _him_. I do not appreciate people badgering my students with questions at a vulnerable time such as this. You may go to your next class, Shuichi."

The Kitsune hardly felt vulnerable, but he wasn't about to argue. Thanking them both, he made his way to the next class: Literature.

By a stroke of timing, Kurama soon found himself alone with Ms. Keruki. The young teacher did not have a third period class, leaving her room empty until the bell. A quick glance at the clock revealed that fourth period was still technically five minutes away.

"Just back from Guidance, I take it?"

Ms. Keruki sat behind her desk, filing papers at what seemed to be random. Her blouse matched her dark hair, and he realized that all of the teachers were dressed in quiet colors today- were they alerted of the student's death before coming to work?

"Yes, and I seem to be early."

He took his seat while the teacher glanced at her watch. "Not by much."

Silence fell, settling through the room like a thick blanket, until it was broken by the woman. "My door is always open, Shuichi."

He smiled at the offer and managed a "thank you" before the bell rang and students flooded into the classroom.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Take this kiss upon the brow!  
And, in parting from you now,  
Thus much let me avow-  
You are not wrong, who deem  
That my days have been a dream;  
Yet if hope has flown away  
In a night, or in a day,  
In a vision, or in none,  
Is it therefore the less gone?  
All that we see or seem  
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar  
Of a surf-tormented shore,  
And I hold within my hand  
Grains of the golden sand-  
How few! yet how they creep  
Through my fingers to the deep,  
While I weep- while I weep!  
O God! can I not grasp  
Them with a tighter clasp?  
O God! can I not save  
One from the pitiless wave?  
Is all that we see or seem  
But a dream within a dream?"

The brunette finished reciting with a nervous smile.

"Thank you, Telaci."

Taking her leave from the teacher, the girl reclaimed her seat by the door. Ms. Keruki had passed out several books entitled, 'The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe.' It seemed that she wanted to spread the Poe cheer; comparison among his other works would improve the students' reports, in Ms. Keruki's opinion. Thus, they were given a copy of the book and each pair was required to read their assigned pieces to the class. This, of course, would take a few days considering the length of some of the pieces. Luckily, 'A Dream Within A Dream' signified the last for today.

"Was she nervous, or what? She was shaking in her little heels up there."

Short light-green hair bobbed as a girl leaned over, her hand blocking her mouth from the teacher's view. Kurama smiled.

"Some young ladies," he emphasized the _some_, "are timid creatures, surrounded by an air of modesty and reserve."

The all but flamboyant student straightened in her chair with a "harumph!"

Aika Tomakino: captain of the girl's softball team and tomboy extraordinaire. After colliding into each other the first day of school, her first impression told her that Kurama was a she. Knowing that, it's not surprising that the first words out of her mouth were, "Watch where you're going, princess."

They were both able to laugh about it and have been friends every since. Friendship, it seemed, also entailed teasing.

"And you would know what it's like to be a lady."

Kurama dismissed the comment, and when the last few minutes of class were announced to be "free," the punkish girl dragged her chair over to sit by the fox.

"Let's be serious for a minute, though. Shuichi, my friend…you look like shit."

Forrest green eyes locked onto emerald.

"You certainly know what a man likes to hear."

He received a thorough eye-rolling and a follow-up explanation: "You look like you haven't slept in weeks, and well…it's not just your appearance."

He raised an eyebrow at this, inviting her to continue.

"You're spacing out a lot lately. It's like the game's still on, but no one's up to batter. People have been steering clear of you because they figure that you're traumatized, what with her being your partner and all, but you have that weariness about you that say's you're ready to snap at someone."

Kurama made a pained gesture of rubbing his eyes, surrounded by darkness and a little blood-shot. He inhaled deeply and could understand Aika's observations. He was physically tired, mentally frustrated, and over-all…ready to 'snap' as his acquaintance so eloquently put it.

"I'll try to get some rest." He gave a weak smile in lue of an explanation. The bell rang, school continued, and life was just a little more strained.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Once again, the kitsune found himself by the school steps staring at a stubbornly dreary sky as students flowed around him, anxious to begin their after school activities. With a lethargic sigh, he gave his backpack a final heave and started down the sidewalk.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the scream. He had time to vaguely wonder about becoming paranoid before he saw who had shrieked.

Telaci sat on the sidewalk, her legs at an odd angle; her breathing was rapid, causing her small chest to rise and fall dramatically. She turned honey-colored eyes to the approaching redhead.

"What's wrong?"

Not bothering to stand up, the ruffled girl pointed an accusing finger to the lamp post ten feet away. Perched upon the harmless structure was a large raven, its beady eyes never leaving the two.

"It attacked me! I was just walking home and it flew right at me. Its beak it so sharp- it's like a monster!" She was nearly in hysterics.

Kurama petted the girl's hair in a soothing manner and looked at the bird. It was large, a raven for sure, but it was not an uncommon creature. Certainly not of monstrous proportions- it was no bigger than the one from that morning or at his window the other day. If he didn't know any better, he'd even say that it was the same one.

As if it could read his thoughts, the crow opened his pointed beak.

"Kar…"

"Make it go away!" The girl was sobbing now.

"Kar…"

Kurama took a swing at it with his pack, but it didn't so much as ruffle the crow's feathers.

"Kar…"

"Oh! Leave me alone!"

Kurama, in his attempts to frighten it off for the girl, had managed to come within a foot of the bird, and still it hadn't moved. He could literally reach out and touch it.

"Kar!"

With the girl's incessant sobbing and the crow's taunting calls grating on the fox's last nerve, he decided to do just that. Delivering a swift backhand, he felt it connect against feathers with solidity. With fluttering wings, the crow recovered quickly and flew high above their heads. With a parting 'Kar,' it was gone.

The girl straightened herself, thanked her 'savior,' and left at a running jog.

Picking up where he left off, Kurama continued down the street, heading home.

Why had it felt so good to hit the crow? Despite superstition and his own experiences with raven-like demons, it was just a bird. The kitsune had been visited by a number of nightmares involving Karasu since the dark tournament, but that was back when he was having dreams. Now he simply closes his eyes to open them and finds that a night had passed him by without lending so much as a drop of sleep.

He froze in mid-step as a thought occurred to him.

A bladeless wound, a feathered stalker; different quotes from the two girls came to mind simultaneously.

_Take thy beak from out my heart and take thy form from off my door! Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."_

_It's beak is so sharp- it's like a monster!_

Kurama shook his head and kept walking. His mind was ready to jump to any conclusion, it seemed- one murder goes a day unsolved, and he's anxious to blame a dead man. Fatigue will do that to you, he reasoned. It's simply absurd: a crow demon coming back as a crow in the Ningenkai. It was about as unlikely as a kitsune falling back into the form of a spirit fox and fleeing to the human world.

…

Absurd. He couldn't believe that he was even entertaining such delusional thoughts. What happened with Telaci just now was hardly an attempt on her life.

Pushing such rambling nonsense aside, he picked up a newspaper from a nearby stand and finished his journey home with more comforting thoughts: thoughts of dinner.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

_Authorities were baffled Tuesday, April 15th, when they received a report of a body. Asena Mya Clements, age 17, was found dead at the local Tamoka Park between one-thirty and two o'clock that morning._

"_She was supposed to come straight home after the midnight matinee. It's a good neighborhood, and she was celebrating getting her license," a family member commented._

_Officials say that the Clements car was found in the theatre parking lot, two miles from the Tamoka Park, with no signs of forced entry. As of yet, the police have no leads, witnesses, or knowledge of the murder weapon. The cause of death is said to be a wound to the heart, though officials have ruled out the use of a blade. When asked for a comment, detective Yoshitaka had this to say:_

_Judging by the placement and condition of the body, we can guess that we're probably looking for a group of occult fanatics. Aside from the fatal wound, there were no other afflictions; no cuts or bruises to speak of. If it had been a single attacker, there would be signs of a struggle, but with the overpowering intimidation of a group, there is not always need for excessive force. The body was found lying across a statue of Pallas. This Pallas is a god of sorts, and the girl was no doubt used as part of a ritual. Rest assured that we are doubling our efforts to keep our neighborhoods safe."_

Kurama shook his head at the article, despite its inability to see the gesture.

Pallas was indeed considered to be a god at one time, but according to Greek mythology, he attempted to rape Athena and met his end at her hand. Of the many gods for an occult to pay sacrifice to, Kurama doubted Pallas was one of them.

He put the paper down next to the note on the dining room table. The kitsune was greeted by an empty house when he came in, a piece of paper waiting for him.

_"Shuichi, dear-_

_Hatakana and I have decided to catch a dinner and a movie. There's meatloaf in the fridge. I hope you had a good day at school. Also, I seem to have misplaced my diamond earrings- the ones that Hatakana gave me- so will you keep an eye out for them? Thanks dear._

_Hugs, mom."_

In other words, Kurama thought, Shiori confronted her husband about the man's harsh words towards her son last night. They had the slightest of arguments, for which he's sure Hatakana felt no remorse, and they're 'making up' for the rest of the evening.

The redhead let out a sigh; he could use the time alone, he supposed.

He couldn't figure out why it seemed that he wanted just the opposite. Fifteen years without a kindred spirit to talk to left the fox feeling a little alone. The formation of Team Urameshi brought him allies, friends even, and he enjoyed their conversations and interactions yet…he still found himself with stories to tell and no one with the right ears to listen.

Hiei was never one for friendly chats, Yusuke would call his restless paranoia just that, and Kuwabara…well, he didn't think that the human was up to speculations involving murder and a dead demon. Kurama hadn't realized how much he wanted to relate to someone until Ms.Keruki made the offer. Naturally, he wasn't about to share a world of demons, deceit, and treachery with his literature teacher, but he yearned for contact none the less.

The sound of an empty stomach snatched the boy from his thoughts. He had a fearsome craving for meat, and there _was_ a meatloaf in the refrigerator. Of course, it was the loaf part that he was worried about. Coming to the conclusion that there was noting better to satisfy his appetite, he heated and scarfed the questionable mound with only the slightest disdain.

The ever-constant pull of fatigue strengthened, urging the kitsune to rest. Dragging his things upstairs, he prepared to call it an early night. He had barely changed clothes and wormed into bed when his consciousness fell into a dark oblivion.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The shrieking of an alarm filled the room, piercing his comforting darkness. An arm flew out from beneath the covers and smashed the clock, sending it tumbling across the floor. The noise stopped.

With a pained groan, the redhead slumped out of his bed to perform the early morning basic functions.

Fifteen minutes, and Kurama was found moping his way into the kitchen. His mother was already up, watching TV.

"Good morning sweetie. What do you want for breakfast?"

He allowed himself to collapse in the kitchen chair, his head in his hands, and replied, "Nothing. I'm not hungry."

He hadn't even spared a glance at the mirror that morning- he could guess what he'd see all too well. It was still daylight when he fell asleep, yet he was running on empty; he shouldn't be a walking corpse, damnit!

"Oh, did you ever find-"

"No."

If Shiori was startled by the abrupt answer, she didn't show it. Instead, she just turned up the volume as a woman in her mid thirties read a news report to the camera.

"In local news, the death of another teenager was discovered last night. Telaci Sawamoto was found dead at the Kohkuri beach by a late-night jogger. The civilian called the police immediately and an investigation is under way. Though an official comment has yet to be released, there are suspicions of murder."

.-.-.

TBC

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Author's notes: I expected Kurama to be further along his downward spiral by now, but in the words of the infamous Paulie, "It takes longer than that to hit rock bottom." This could be considered a mystery, so does anyone have any theories or observations yet? Even if you don't, I'd love to hear from you.


End file.
